“Sophie,” a voice cut through the darkness.
She lifted her head, her heart racing so fast it hurt. Rain poured down in heavy sheets, soaking her hair, her clothes, her skin—mixing with tears she could no longer separate from the storm.
Under the dim yellow glow of a flickering streetlamp, she saw a figure moving quickly toward her.
“…Ethan?”
Her voice broke on his name.
Her brother.
Her older brother.
The one she hadn’t seen in months because Daniel always had a reason—always a convenient excuse—to keep him away.
Ethan didn’t say anything at first. He stepped closer, took off his jacket, and gently draped it over her shoulders, shielding her trembling body from the cold rain.
Then he saw her face.
The red mark on her cheek.
And something inside him shifted.
Not shock.
Not confusion.
Something colder.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
“Who did this to you?” he asked quietly.
Sophie didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
Ethan slowly lifted his gaze toward the house behind her.
The lights were still on.
The curtains moved slightly.
Shadows passed behind the glass.
He already knew.
He had always known.
It was Sophie… who had refused to see it.
“Come on,” he said, his voice firm but steady. “You’re leaving with me.”
She hesitated.
Her eyes drifted to the front door.
That house.
The one she had poured years into—her time, her love, her patience.
The one she had believed was her future.
And now… in a single moment, it had turned into something else.
Something suffocating.
“I don’t have anything,” she whispered.
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
“You have yourself.”
A pause.
“And that’s enough.”
The words settled into her chest, heavy… but grounding.
For a brief second, she stood there, caught between two worlds—the one she had built… and the one she was about to walk into.
Then something inside her shifted.
She didn’t go back to that door.
She didn’t knock.
Didn’t scream.
Didn’t beg.
Sophie simply… turned away.
And walked into the rain beside her brother.
Inside the house, Daniel stood by the window, arms crossed, watching her leave.
Annoyed.
But not worried.
Never worried.
“She’ll regret it,” he muttered. “She has nowhere to go.”
Behind him, his mother—Margaret—let out a dry, dismissive laugh.
“Let her leave. She’ll be back tomorrow. They always come back.”
But that night…
she didn’t.
The next morning, Daniel woke up later than usual.
The house felt… different.
Too quiet.
No coffee brewing.
No breakfast waiting.
No soft, invisible presence moving around him, holding his life together in ways he had never bothered to notice.
He frowned.
“Sophie?” he called out.
No answer.
He checked the kitchen.
Empty.
The bedroom.
Still empty.
His irritation grew.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “She’s just being dramatic.”
He grabbed his phone.
No messages.
No missed calls.
Nothing.
A smirk tugged at his lips.
“She’ll calm down.”
At exactly ten in the morning, his assistant called.
“Mr. Daniel… there’s an urgent meeting scheduled.”
“I didn’t schedule anything,” he snapped. “Who set it up?”
There was a brief pause.
“Mr. Ethan Brooks.”
Daniel frowned.
